


Sportball

by Pen37



Series: The Actual Human Disaster, Hufflepuff, Adventure Archaeologist and the Missing Brother [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:09:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen37/pseuds/Pen37
Summary: MC makes Hogwarts Quidditch History. This is not exactly a good thing.  Or: the wacky screwball sports comedy that literally no one asked for.





	Sportball

You’re halfway out of the tunnel from the Hufflepuff common room when Philip and Chauncey haul you back by the arms.

“How do you feel about quidditch?” Chauncey asks you.

You’re instantly on high alert. Half the Hufflepuff quidditch team is in the hospital wing after an accident in greenhouse three involving defective earmuffs and baby mandrakes, leaving Hufflepuff at a disadvantage going up against Ravenclaw this weekend.

“I like to watch,” You hedge. You have a good grasp on the fundamentals thanks to being friends with André, Charlie, Barnaby and Rowan. You even like to sit in the stands with a good book during quidditch practice. But you’d really rather be a spectator.

“Ever play?” Chauncey presses.

“I don’t even own a broom.” You say with some relief. No broom equals not being forced to play. “I’ve been borrowing André’s.”

“But if we could get you a broom, would you be willing to give it a shot?” Philip asks.

“You don’t want me on the team, trust me.” You tell them.

“I’ve seen you in Hooch’s class,” Phillip argues. “You’re a natural on a broom.”

“Flying is one skill,” you argue. “Playing a high-speed sport with iron murder balls while flying is another skill. One that I’m rubbish at.”

“How do you know unless you try?” Chauncey argues.

“Where is this even coming from?” You ask. “What gave you the idea that I should play for Hufflepuff?”

The two Hufflepuffs hold an entire conversation with their eyes. Then Chauncey sighs. “We looked up the records - your brother was the best beater Ravenclaw fielded in over a century. And your dad was a fair beater too. You’re … “ he hesitates over his word choice.

“You’re an extremely violent dueler,” Philip says.

“That you are,” Chauncey agrees. “We wondered if you might be as aggressive as a beater?”

“Look, if we can’t field a team this weekend, we forfeit the game.” Philip says. “The birds usually play like rubbish this time of year, anyway. Too busy studying for exams. If we can just get enough people on brooms, the rest of the team can probably still pull out a victory.”

You sigh. Of course you’re going to help out. You have chronic helping out disease. “If you guys can find me a broom, I’ll give it a shot.”

—

“Hey (Y/L/N)!” Merula smirks at you before DADA class in a way that sends your heart plummeting into your toes. She lays her broom on your desk. “Your worthless team captain said that if you play this weekend, there’s a good chance you could die. Or at least fall off your broom. I asked him what I could do to make that happen, and he said you needed to borrow this.”

You stare in disbelief. “You want to loan me a broom?”

“It’s my backup broom,” Merula says. “I wouldn’t lend my best broom out to anyone. But if it means you fall from the sky in a burning ball of kindling, It would be worth loosing this old thing.”

“Gee thanks,” you say sarcastically.

“Don’t mention it.” Merula says. She shoots a furtive look at the door, where anyone could walk in and see her being nice to you. “Really. Don’t.”

You shrink the broom and tuck it into your pocket. “I won’t.”

—

“Incoming!” Rowan points out the fast-approaching iron murder ball.

Ben screams and dives for the ground behind Tonks and Penny, shielding his head with his arms.

You shift on the broom, change the grip on your bat and give the bludger a hard whack. It doesn’t go as far as you’d like, and the energy it transfers to you and your broom sends you spinning backward.

“Remember to compensate for the kinetic energy by accelerating,” Rowan says.

“It’s coming back,” Tonks points.

“Right!” You push the broom around and accelerate to meet the bludger. You whack it with such force that the bat stings your hand. The bludger flys off, but you drop the bat from your nerveless fingers.

“That would be bad news during a game,” Penny says.

“I know that!” You snap at them while you sloth grip roll over to pick up the bat. “Since you’re so full of advice, why aren’t you volunteering to play?”

Tonks laughs at the idea. “I barely manage to walk most days, and you want me to play quidditch?” As if to prove her point, she falls over while laughing. “Besides, I have detention for switching out the earmuffs in the greenhouse.”

“That was you?” You’re tempted to beat Tonks with the bat. Maybe if you pretended the bludgers were her head, you’d be better at this.

“I actually am playing,” Penny said. “They’ve got me filling in as chaser. Bludger!” She points.

You move the broom into position, and accelerate toward the erratically moving ball. This time, you’re more prepared. You whack the ball away without dropping the bat. But your fingers throb and your palm stings.

“Good!” Penny says. “Next time see if you can direct where you hit the ball.”

“Make sure it’s away from us!” Ben adds.

“Why are you even here?” Rowan glances back to him. “You’re a Gryffindor!”

“Moral support?” Ben says.

“Mate, not that we don’t appreciate it, but maybe you can morally support us from the safety of your room?” Tonks suggests.

“That might be for the best,” Ben crawls for the shelter of the stands.

“Here it comes again.” Rowan says.

You tighten your grip and accelerate.

—

Things only get harder during the match, because there are not one, but two iron murder balls. And Rowan isn’t there to point out when they’re coming your way.

You’re so busy scanning for the bludgers and whacking them at anyone in blue, that you don’t even notice the buzzing in your ear until you realize that the stadium is eerily quiet. Then you realize that all eyes are on you. And that Chauncey and André are both hovering just out of reach.

You shrug as if to say “well?”

“The snitch is right by your ear, (Y/L/N),” Chauncey hisses at you.

You peer out of the corner of your eye. It’s hovering there like a fat, happy bee.

“If you touch it, we take a penalty and they have to release a new snitch,” Chauncey says. “Just glide away sloooowly.”

You slide away, but the thing must get caught in your slipstream, because it follows. André and Chauncey follow behind it, shoving and bumping each other.

With an annoyed groan, you speed up.

So does the snitch. Then both the bludgers join in the chase. The other players keep passing the quaffle, but no one is really watching them. All eyes are on the three of you.

You’re not allowed to leave the pitch (unlike the seekers.) so all you can really do is fly laps. The faster you go, the faster the snitch goes after you. Before long, you’re leading either the most bizarre game of chase in history, or a really fast parade.

The fans get into the spirit of things, yelling “faster!” As you zoom past. Pretty soon, someone has organized the wave.

“What do I do now?” You yell to Rowan as you pass the Hufflepuff stands. With her encyclopediac knowledge of everything, she could probably help you figure out how to get rid of the snitch without inciting a penalty.

On your seventh pass, she’s run into the commentator’s box and wrestled the microphone away from Billingsley. “Nudge it away with your bat!”

You figure that there must not be a rule against this. Or at least the penalty may not be as bad as if you accidentally touched the snitch. So you perform a bootegger’s turn with your broom.

—

You’ve spent enough time helping out in the infirmary to recognize it when you wake.

Rowan, Penny, Barnaby, Bill and Charlie are sitting at your bedside.

The last thing you remember is turning so that you could shove the snitch away. If Penny is here with you, the match must be over.

“Did we win?” You croak.

“Surprisingly, yes.” Charlie said. “Chauncy caught the snitch a minute after you and André collided with each other mid-air.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “André’s still blacked out in the next bed.”

“Why was the snitch following me?” You ask.

“Someone charmed it to follow you.” Penny fake coughs. It sounds a lot like she says Tulip’s name in all that coughing. “Of course, no one can prove anything. Chauncey wanted me to give this to you as a souvineer.”

She holds up a large potions jar with the little gold ball inside. Even now it’s trying to get to you. You touch the side of the jar, and it moves to the glass where your hand is. You might have just earned a new pet. One you don’t even have to feed.

“On the bright side, you made quidditch history.” Charlie says. “I don’t think a beater and a seeker have ever mutually knocked one another out after a fight over a snitch before.”

“I was not fighting over the snitch! I just wanted it to leave me alone!”

“You also took out two of the Ravenclaw chasers who were trying to catch you on the way down.” Penny says.

“Before today there were only 700 types of fouls in Quiddich.” Bill says. “Now there are 701. They’re calling the new one (Y/L/N)ing.”

“Just what I wanted! To make murderbroomball history.” You cross your arms.

“Cheer up,” Barnaby says. “Merula wasn’t even mad that her broom got cracked. She was grinning when I gave it back to her. “

You roll over, pulling the pillow over your head. You swear that you will only ever enjoy quidditch as a spectator from now on. The way nature intended.


End file.
